


gone are the days

by sheelia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming of Age, Friendship, Future, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheelia/pseuds/sheelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The entire thirty seconds left a sour taste in his mouth for the next thirty minutes, and Kageyama decided, sitting among the unpacked boxes in his new dorm room, <i>to hell with new beginnings</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gone are the days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/gifts).



> me: kitagawa daiichi trio!!!  
> also me: _**[softly whimpering]**_
> 
> To Jess- I know I didn't use any of your three prompts, but I hope you still enjoy this! This OT3 has a special place in my heart, and I hope it came through in this piece. Fun fact: I was deciding between "interlude" and "gone are the days" as the title, but I realized looking at your rp fic submission that your fic was titled "interlude" (lol, fate), so it made choosing titles easier!

"Oh," Kindaichi heaves like a deflating balloon, sounding a little aggravated, but the wringing of the hem of his shirt with his restless fingers gives him away. "I didn't know you were going to come here to study." He ends there, and from the way he opens and closes his mouth it's clear that he doesn't know what to say.

Kageyama tugs his suitcase closer to his body, even though it isn't going to run away from him. "Me neither," he replies and shifts his gaze sideways to where Kunimi's standing, his hands shoved into his sweater pockets like the nonchalant I-don't-care-about-everything teenager he pretends to be.

Kunimi shrugs, seemingly unfazed by the unexpected turn of events. He slides between both Kageyama and Kindaichi to get into his and Kindaichi’s room, which coincidentally happens to be right across Kageyama's.

There's a familiar look in his eyes when he brushes past – from a time so distant it almost pains Kageyama to recall, but Kageyama does, and as soon as he's remembered, Kunimi's look flickers. He turns in Kindaichi's general direction, but he announces to no one in particular, "Oh well. Whatever. Never mind."

 

-

 

The memory of drive to Kyoto was a fog; kind of like tasting food with a stuffed nose – bland, forgettable, and mildly uncomfortable.

Kageyama sat in the back seat of the car, nestled between boxes of home appliances that couldn’t fit into the trunk and his large comforter that he couldn’t bear squeezing into his suitcase. He spread the latter over his lap to warm himself up, since his father liked to turn up the air conditioning, regardless of how cold it was outside.

The trees along the highway oddly retained the cold, withered look of winter, its bare branches reaching to cover the expanse of the grey sky, leaving hairline cracks in its wake. He could only closely scrutinize this whenever the car pulled up at the toll station though. Most of the time, the car sped down the highway, and the row of trees along the road blended together in an indistinguishable long stripe. He likened it to the past few years of his life, which flew past so quickly that he found it difficult to remember a time when he sat down to _breathe_.

His mother turned the radio up to fill up the still void that hung over them like a thick blanket, and Kageyama sat through the entire two days worth of 1980s Japanese pop, which was unpleasantly grating to the ears.

And when they finally arrived in Kyoto, his father pulled the car up right outside the student residences and helped him unload his things, bringing them up the stairs to his room in batches. Right before the last trip upstairs, his father gave him a hug, the first in years, and his mother wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. He gave them a small wave, not really knowing how to deal with how oddly his parents were acting, and took the rest of his belongings upstairs alone.

As he wheeled the last of his suitcases to his room, he thought about new beginnings, and how he dreaded them. And then, almost as if the universe decided it was the perfect time to mock him–

“Oh,” came a familiar voice. Sure, there were definitely signs of age and a hint of maturity, but also a general aura of displeasure that he had come to associate with Kindaichi.

And there’s also Kunimi, who had quickly brushed him off.

The entire thirty seconds left a sour taste in his mouth for the next thirty minutes, and Kageyama decided, sitting among the unpacked boxes in his new dorm room, _to hell with new beginnings_.

 

-

 

Kageyama doesn't really leave his room for the rest of the day. He spends most of his time unpacking, convincing himself that he's holed himself up in here not because he’s trying to avoid two particular people, but rather people in general.

Occasionally, he has to make a trip to the bathroom, so he runs. He’s not sure why he’s being paranoid, or why he’s let the short but unexpected appearance of two old friends – _no_ , he corrects himself – strangers, rattle him this much.

He meets his roommate, a short and earnest looking boy named Sakunami. His fringe is purposefully parted right down the middle, each side seemingly pressed down with gel and a comb, but Kageyama refrains from making any comments.

Kageyama sets down his plastic bag of purchases from the convenience store. Emptying the contents into their proper drawers, Kageyama eyes Sakunami’s washed socks that are hanging on the windowsill, as if wet clothing were a substitute for dorm room decor.

Sakunami looks like he’s about to say something, judging from the way he’s been nervously staring at Kageyama for the past minute. Then, his voice faltering on the first word, “You” –he coughs to clear his throat– “You were Karasuno’s official setter for three years.”

With his hands on his knees, Kageyama pushes himself up so that he’s no longer squatting while he’s having this conversation. He squints, taking in all the details he can. This guy, Sakunami... he’s definitely seen him before somewhere, and while he had no recollection of his name, he could definitely sense the name of his school on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I was,” Kageyama finally replies, his voice rough against the silence.

Sakunami chuckles, and it comes out forcefully polite. He turns away and busies himself by hanging up more of his wet socks.

 

-

 

“Take one each, boys,” their coach said, passing down a stack of McDonald’s coupons down the line. “Go have fun and eat whatever it is you kids eat nowadays,” his last words trail off like an afterthought.

Kageyama received the stack, nimbly slid out a single coupon, and passed the remaining pieces to Kunimi, who was standing beside him. Kunimi takes it wordlessly, barely sparing Kageyama any attention. There were definitely better days, and things were better at the start. Standing at their own farewell party made things all the more bittersweet; it wasn’t the ending they were hoping for, but almost everyone looked happy to be here.

For two weeks, Kageyama had been waiting for Kindaichi and Kunimi to say something. If there was something wrong, they should just say it to his face. He had grown used to the endless buzzing of their group chat on his phone, which then simmered down to hangouts during lunch break and after school, and then somewhere down the line it became just seeing each other at practice.

At the volleyball club’s graduation party, Kageyama helped himself to two balls of onigiri and a cup of grape juice. Kindaichi and Kunimi blatantly ignoring him at the other end of the room did nothing to ease the tension between them.

At the end of the day, Kageyama found himself engaging in pleasantries – promises to keep in touch and vows to return to visit once he’s in high school – but walking out of the front gate of Kitagawa Daiichi, he heard the other third years behind him talk about the milkshakes and chicken nuggets they were going to get. Face scrunching up like he’s smelled a foul stench and his neck growing hot, he sped his pace up to distance himself from the crowd.

 

-

 

Kunimi’s always been the smartest of them three – silently observant and eerily perceptive. He’s never been one for words, and Kageyama can empathize with that, but there are some things that no one can possibly hide. Kunimi looks at him like he’s searching, his eyebrows furrowed and his cheeks hollowed out, waiting for the crack in Kageyama’s facade so that he can say _there it is, he hasn't changed a single bit_.

He overcompensates his shock with disdain, his nose scrunching up as Kageyama slides into the only empty seat left in this lecture room.

And Kindaichi – he’s always been an optimist. His coughing breaks the tension that lingered between them.

“So, we’re in the same class too,” Kindaichi states lamely.

Kageyama fiddles with the tip of his mechanical pencil.

Their professor shows up a few minutes later in grandfather tweeds and a pretentious sweater vest, and he scribbles on the blackboard in capitals: INTRODUCTION TO URBAN LEGENDS.

He tells them to get into groups of three, and glancing at the half-dead looking guy sitting on his left, Kageyama decides working with Kindaichi and Kunimi will be much better.

 

-

 

The tiled flooring in the ice cream parlor was bathed in a warm rose glow from the five o'clock sun, and the three of them bent over the glass panel that stood between them and ice cream. Kunimi debated the pros and cons of getting yuzu flavored ice cream together with a scoop of cookies and cream, and Kindaichi, the self-proclaimed ice cream connoisseur, shoved him hard enough to expel that terrible idea.

"As smart as you seem, you're actually equally stupid," Kindaichi mocked, pressing his eager (and sweaty) hands on the glass as he scrutinized the special flavors of the day. The eighteen-year-old staff behind the counter grunted.

The ice cream parlor two train stops away from Kitagawa Daiichi was the only one of its kind in the vicinity, and the trip there itself made it grander than a simple visit to the convenience store. Kageyama liked this a lot. While not being a huge fan of ice cream he appreciated the ritual – the significance of the whole journey starting from the front gates of school.

Thinking back now, this seemed like such a distant memory that he was only able to recall snippets, the events playing through his mind like a film on VHS tape, all including gaps of lost time and scenes steeped in sepia.

Kindaichi and Kunimi weren't the best people he'd ever met – the people he had crossed paths with at Karasuno had left an indelible mark on him, shaping him into the person he was now – but they were the first.   


-

 

Kageyama brings a tub of ice cream to Kindaichi and Kunimi’s bedroom, holding it in his two hands like a peace offering. He hears Kunimi shout that the door’s unlocked, so he lets himself in.

Kindaichi’s standing on his bed with a broken command hook in his hand and he’s panicking about the peeled paint on his wall.

“Ignore him,” Kunimi says. He’s lying on his bed, observing the mayhem that’s unfolding right in front of his eyes. He sits up, swinging his legs over so they hang over the edge of his bed.

He squints. “What’s that?”

Kageyama takes a second to process the question, the replies slowly, “Oh. Uh, ice cream.”

When Kindaichi’s finally calmed down, he climbs off his bed to get spoons, brushing off stray articles of clothing on the ground with his foot to clear a path to his drawers.

They sit on the ground in the space between the two beds, awkwardly passing the pint around as they discuss the project details.

“Write about an urban legend you have personally encountered or experienced,” Kageyama reads, and his mind trails to McDonald’s chicken nuggets, UFOs, and emails about receiving the inheritance of a dying millionaire from a far-away country.

Kindaichi straightens up, as if jolted by a spark. “The old tool shed. The one at the end of the baseball field.”

 

-

 

The tool shed at the far end of the Kitagawa Daiichi baseball field, a rickety building with a zinc roof, stood out against the barren grass. At midnight the field possessed the air of a vast ocean, and wading through the grass to get across it seemed like an impossible feat. Eventually, after five minutes of Kunimi complaining about how dumb the entire thing was, the three of them reached the front door of the building, which now stood taller than it seemed.  
  
Kindaichi was in-charge of holding the list of items they were supposed to collect scavenger hunt. Well, at least he was, until Kageyama snatched it over after Kindaichi dropped it for the third time.   
As second years in the volleyball club, they had been given the task of finding three items from this particular tool shed. They had heard the rumors – a few years ago someone buried a body under the dirt, and the reason why the baseball team always ended training before dark was to avoid walking into the shed, where they would encounter the ghost that haunted it.

 _Of course_ , Kageyama reasoned, _this was all bullshit_.

Kunimi shone his flashlight onto the front door, casting the off-white wood in an eerie glow.

"One of you, open it," he frowned, already dreading the entire affair.

Kageyama was the first to walk in.

"Kunimi, stand in front. You've got the flashlight," he gulped.

"And Kindaichi... are you... eating?" Kageyama continued after he swapped places with Kunimi, and was now face to face with Kindaichi munching on a granola bar.

"Hey! Eating calms me down!" Kindaichi retorted with his mouth full.

Kageyama stared down at his list: a red metal school pin, a yearbook from 1996, and a photograph of the 2001 volleyball club. It was so dark that they could barely see, and Kunimi's shitty flashlight did little to alleviate their misery.

And at that very moment they heard a creak. Kageyama whipped his head around to identity the source of the noise. The three of them stayed perfectly still.

"Holy shit!" Kunimi suddenly shouted, his body reeling back and consequently crashing into both Kageyama and Kindaichi behind him. Kageyama, who didn't catch a glimpse of whatever scared Kunimi, let out a yelp as well. Behind him, Kindaichi was choking on his granola bar, and after a few seconds Kunimi realized that it was a large moth on the wall.

Standing in the midst of this chaos, Kageyama couldn't tell which was scarier.

 

-

 

The presentation goes swimmingly, and by _swimmingly_ Kageyama means that it wasn't a disaster. Majority of their audience was awake to enjoy a recount of story from their junior high days, along with a picture slideshow of abandoned houses randomly plucked off Google because they couldn't find a picture of the actual tool shed. Their professor looked mildly impressed and gave them exactly two claps, and Kunimi complained about him under his breath all the way back to his seat.

Kageyama collects his peer evaluation forms from the rest of his classmates and looks through the comments.

 

  * Loud and clear voice. Good.
  * You should smile more. But you spoke clearly, which is nice.
  * Everything was okay except the fact that you balled your fists so hard I thought you were going to punch someone.



 

Eh, Kageyama shrugs. Good enough.

Softly, he whispers, "Good job," giving both Kindaichi and Kunimi a thumbs up.

Both of them return blank stares.

Kageyama's mind wanders off for the rest of class; occasionally he tuned into other groups talk about fake chicken nuggets and rotting hamburgers, and at the end of each presentation he wrote a generic "Good" on each person's evaluation form.

At the end of the day he returned to his room feeling listless. There was a collapsed feeling under his skin. He didn't feel particularly happy that his day was over, or disappointed that things didn't meet his expectations. He just feels kind of empty, like he's out of fuel.

Sakunami's working on his homework when Kageyama walks in, and he looks up to acknowledge his presence. Into their second week of school, Sakunami has proved to be a decent human being. He doesn't come home late into the night, nor does he snore at night. They talk about volleyball sometimes too, which is nice. Volleyball tryouts start the week after, but given their experience they're confident in getting in. Playing on the starting lineup is a whole other issue though.

"How was the presentation?" Sakunami asks, leaning back into his chair. "The one with – what are their names – Kunimi and Kindaichi?"

Kageyama rubs the back of his neck with his hand, eyes darting down to the foot of his bed. "It went well. Just, yeah."

 

-

 

Signs of the fallout started surfacing in the middle of their second year, right around the time when Kageyama was named the official setter for the team. This had sowed a small amount of discontent amongst the third years, who felt bad for their third year setter.

What his teammates appreciated was the fact that Kageyama never boasted, even though he probably knew he was one of the best on the team. He always showed up early to practice and stayed late, and that kind of work ethic impressed the third years enough to accept the change in the starting lineup.

At his skill level, Kageyama had higher expectations from his teammates, and for a while Kindaichi and Kunimi went along with it, training as hard as they could to match Kageyama's tosses and advice. It wasn't until they were finally put into the starting line-up at the end of the year that they deemed it impossible to match Kageyama's outrageous expectations.

"You don't have to work this hard, stupid," Kunimi said as an offhanded remark one day after practice as he was picking up stray balls. "We always win."

Kageyama's glare bore down uncomfortably on Kunimi, and his eyebrows were deeply furrowed in anger.

Kunimi let it slide, figuring that Kageyama was just having one of his moments, but when he brought it up to Kindaichi the next day at lunch, Kindaichi groaned.

"He's becoming a kind of a jerk," he mumbled, not focusing his attention on anything in particular.  


-

 

"Is anyone sitting with you?" Kindaichi asks, holding his tray of food in front of him.

Kageyama makes it a point to blink twice, because _this_ is indeed very new to him. His mouth is full of rice from his katsu don, but he nods and shifts his textbook away to make some room.

Kindaichi sets his tray of food: a steaming bowl of tempura udon and a chilled bottle of green tea – common lunch time staples. By Kageyama's standards, 11 a.m. is way too early for lunch, but he prefers this to the hoard of students rush into the dining hall an hour later.

Kindaichi grimaces as he pulls out his drenched shrimp tempura from his soup, verbally expressing his displeasure as he transferred the soggy piece onto a dry plate.

"Studying for..." Kindaichi squints at Kageyama's textbook, "Econ? You should study with Kunimi. I think he's also taking that class. Bastard's an annoying prodigy at it."

Kageyama stifles a snicker with the back of his hand. "Ugh, typical."

They share a knowing smile, and for a moment everything is forgotten. Kageyama learns to take the small victories as they come.

 

-

 

The futons on laid across the floor slowly bunched together as the game of truth-or-dare progressed into its fifteenth round.

"Okay, Kageyama. You're next," Nishinoya snapped his fingers. " _Truth or dare_."

The volleyball club was sitting in a circle in the center of the room, and the bowl of chips in the center was overturned from when Narita and Kinoshita played gay chicken the last round. Kageyama felt bad for Suga, who's unfortunate futon was now covered in crumbs.

Hinata shoved him at his side, muttering under his breath, "Go!"

"Truth," Kageyama said. The last round, they had him lick the underside of Tsukishima's shoe, which displeased them both, so he wasn't going to go the adventurous route again. Plus, he figured that it was time for a change in mood.

Tanaka mulled it over for a moment with his chin resting on his fist. Nishinoya stifled a yawn with his hand. In the corner, Tsukishima glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall.

"How abooout," Ennoshita trailed on the end there, tapping his fingers on his knee as he tried to find the words. He cleared his throat, "Something you would change about your past?"

Kageyama stared hard at his crossed legs for a long while, and after a moment he saw Hinata come into his field of vision, who had bent over to check if Kageyama was okay. He pursed his lips to the side as he tried to decide which was more important: him making this easy, or him being honest.

"I would change how I acted in junior high," he spit out eventually. He scanned across the room to judge the others' reactions. Luckily, nobody demanded an explanation. He wasn't sure if he could really come up with one, even if they wanted him to.  

Then, Hinata slapped his thigh, his voice loud and piercing as he exclaimed, "But look at how everything worked out in the end!"

Later that night, after Daichi turned off the lights and they had crawled under the covers (Suga made a huge show of sweeping the broken chip bits off his futon), Kageyama spent a good half an hour thinking of alternate timelines and endings. And then, realizing that he had to get up early for practice tomorrow morning, he counted numbers in his head until he fell asleep.

  


-

 

Turns out, asking Kunimi for help with Econ is the best and worst decision. Kindaichi is also sitting at the same table with his eyes averted, trying to pretend like he isn't responsible for this bad idea.

It starts off with Kunimi going, in a low voice that mimicked their  economics professor, "Call me sensei," and then a beat later, "No wait don't, that sounds kinky."

Kageyama stared back wordlessly, the textbook still in his arms. Kindaichi told him to come prepared. Maybe he should have been more specific.

Somewhere along the line, in the middle of Kunimi's crash course on market structure, Kageyama realizes how _odd_ everything is. It's like they've regressed in time, and he can feel the subtle shift in gravity. Everything looks the same but it's not – even the air is different.

"Hey, dumbass. What are the characteristics of an oligopoly?" Kunimi pokes his cheek with the eraser on the tip of his pencil.

Kageyama stutters something about money and how it's not a monopoly, and Kindaichi has the audacity to groan.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, as if he were sobering up from a bad hangover, Kunimi suggested, "Or, an alternative guide to passing econ: number one, draw your graphs without rulers – professors are impressed when you're too good for a ruler. Two, write badly so they can't read your mistakes. No extra effort needed from you there."

Underneath all that bad advice, Kageyama finds hints of the Kunimi he once knew, and despite the insult on his incompetence in economics, Kageyama found himself smiling.

Kunimi berates sternly, slapping his plastic ruler on Kageyama's shoulder, "What are you smiling about!"

  


-

 

The sun's last rays silently swept across the long hallway on the ground floor of Sendai gymnasium. Like a mother's gentle caress, the light bathed the profile of Hinata's face in a soft amber glow, and as temperamental as the weather was, the light soon faded away.  This left Hinata's visage as it was, the skin around his eyes raw and his neck a fierce blooming red. He was sitting on the floor, slumped up against the wall behind him.

Kageyama curled his fingers tighter around his bag strap. He shifted his gaze away from Hinata to the rest of his teammates; he had no idea where Tanaka was, and Ennoshita was sitting with the distraught first-year players.

Karasuno went up against Aoba Jousai in the semi-finals that year and lost. Not by much, but a defeat was still a defeat, and every loss hurt like hell.

 

The double doors at the end of the hall creaked open. Catching a flash of teal, Hinata sprung to his feet and ran. Kayegama followed behind on instinct, a habit that had always served him well until that very moment.

"You may have won this time, but watch out for us next year!" Hinata shouted at Yahaba, who, after all this time, still looked surprised.

A while later, Kageyama ran into Kunimi and Kindaichi in the bathroom. Not having anything better to say to both of them, Kageyama washed his hand silently with soap, scrubbing furiously so that he could leave as soon as possible.

Kindaichi cleared his throat, "That was a, uh, good game."

He kicked Kunimi's shin, "Ow- Yeah."

And then quickly, "We're not friends though. Just so you know." Kindaichi added a nonchalant shrug at the end there.

Kageyama scoffed, wiping his wet hands on his pants, "Yeah, of course. We're rivals."

 

-

 

"Your roommate, Sakunami – he really came through tonight,"  Kunimi raises his cup of rum and Coca-Cola. Kageyama and Kindaichi weakly raise their plastic cups as well. 

Kunimi takes a large sip, and judging from the way he scrunches his nose, Kageyama can tell that he's trying his best not to spit it back into the cup.

"Really though," Kunimi continues once he's forcefully swallowed the vile tasting drink in his hands. "I was under the impression that he was a stickler. You know, with that hair of his."

To that remark Kageyama raises his eyebrows. Kunimi doesn't exactly have a very contemporary hairstyle either. And well, Kindaichi – with the amount of gel he uses to keep his hair up, his hairstyle might stick around for another century or so. 

"I'm quite surprised he invited us to come," Kageyama agrees eventually, but the two of them miss that remark, which got lost in the sea of voices and music.

Swaying his body left and right in an effort to mimic the other people in the crowd, Kindaichi asks, "So... What do people do at a party?"

Kunimi shrugs, holding the red cup in his hand so unnaturally that it's clear this is his first time at a college party. It's hot and it smells like sweat. Kageyama comments, "It smells ten times worse than the locker room."

Kunimi and him chuckle, but for some reason Kindaichi finds it hilarious. He loses his grip on his drink and spills it down Kageyama's entire arm on accident. 

After Kageyama's cleaned his arm up with a napkin, they return to their little triangle in the far corner of the room. Right in the middle of an atrocious top 40 song, Kindaichi finally loses it. 

"It's only 10 p.m.," Kunimi whines after checking the time on his phone. Kageyama rolls out a list of options in his head. Getting piss drunk definitely isn't an option.

"We could... I don't know," Kageyama blurts out, and then he pauses, getting self-conscious. He makes a few gestures towards the door, "If you guys are up for reliving old memories..." He trails off, diverting his eyeline to the snack table, then to the spinning disco ball on the ceiling fan, and then to the group of people next to them. Above the music, Kageyama hears one of the boys introduce himself as "Satoshi the Vegetarian".

Ugh.

Kunimi returns the sentiment with mirth, crossing his arms as he physically got in position to take on the challenge. 

They take a shot of vodka for good luck. Kunimi remarks that it tastes like hand sanitizer, and Kindaichi asks mockingly, in his typical junior high state of mind, if Kunimi's tasted hand sanitizer before. Stumbling out of the upperclassmen's house and onto the streets of Kyoto city, Kageyama tries to google, in his exact words, "scary abandoned places in Kyoto". 

The internet is shitty, and Kageyama isn't having it with google being uncooperative right now. 

Kageyama doesn't notice how far they've walked until Kunimi halts his step, thus jolting him out of his reverie.  He looks up from his phone and scrutinizes his surroundings.

The artificial lighting from the sparse streetlamps don't provide a  lot of coverage, making the deserted alleys between buildings seem cold and desolate. 

"Let's go there," Kageyama prompts, "We'll worry about getting home later." 

They weave through the first alley they pass. It's a tight squeeze, and Kageyama realizes that trying to avoid clothing lines while tipsy is harder than he expected.

Kageyama has no idea where they're heading, and at this moment none of it matters. All his struggles, his inadequacies, his insecurities – they have all been cast out of his consciousness. Kindaichi's trailing behind them, stumbling as he gets caught in bed sheets. He doesn't register how far they've walked and where they've made turns. Swallowed up in their laughter, he feels invincible.

Somewhere along the line, Kunimi brings up volleyball club tryouts, and he turns around to ask Kageyama specifically, "Are you going?"

Kageyama's lungs swell and the delightful sensation spreads like fire. His entire body pulls back in offense because Kunimi's question is absurd.

"Of course!" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to my dear friends on twitter who put up with me complaining for the past month  
> talk to me on twitter @refois or on tumblr @plaire


End file.
